


a full proof plan

by softspiderlad



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Basically, Fluff, Getting Together, Harley is a little shit, M/M, Parkner Week 2019, identity porn + parade, it's cute, peter can't go because spider-man is going but harley doesn't know peter is spidey, there's a pride parade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softspiderlad/pseuds/softspiderlad
Summary: “I think Peter’s in love with you.”The eyes on Spidey’s mask go wide, and for a long moment, there’s no response, no reaction, until Spidey suddenly snorts so hard that he loses his grip on the web he was holding on to, and for a terrifying moment Harley is hopeless to do anything but watch as Spider-Man starts to fall, but it’s only a few seconds before he shoots another web and raises himself back up to where he was, only now he’s upside down, and a little bit closer, approximately a foot or so of space between Harley’s face and Spidey’s masked one. Then, quickly, Spidey shakes his head, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.“No?” Harley questions, frowning. “Like, no, Peter isn’t in love with you?” Spidey nods, the action simple, amused, but still sure. Harley doesn’t buy it.-parkner week 2019, day one: parade + identity porn





	a full proof plan

**Author's Note:**

> the smartest dumbasses alive

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

Peter doesn’t look up from the circuit board in front of him, shrugging a single shoulder and only sounding mildly apologetic when he says, “I’m not, sorry.”

“But—” Harley flings a hand in the air, his loose grip on the screwdriver sending it flying across the room, though neither of them pay attention to it. DUM-E skitters after the object immediately, and Harley pats the bot in gratitude when the screwdriver is brought right back to him. “Peter, it’s a _pride parade.”_

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “But I made a deal with Cap before realizing pride was on that day, so I can’t go.”

Harley gapes at him for a long moment. Peter pointedly does not look away from the wires he’s carefully twisting together, instead waits patiently until Harley huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling, “I bet Spidey’s gonna go, though. I thought you two were, like, best friends?”

The amount of self-control it takes for Peter to combat an amused smile is almost admirable. He just shrugs again. “Ned’s my best friend. And MJ, and you. Spidey’s, like, a coworker. I dunno if he’s going.”

“You sure talk about him enough to sound like best friends,” Harley says, almost accusingly, pointing a finger at Peter and raising his brows like he’s made a ground breaking point. “I still haven’t even met the dude, but you’re, like, always working on his stuff. Tony can work on Spidey’s stuff, too, and so can I, but you pretty much insist on doing all of it. Seems like you’re close, s’all I’m sayin’.”

“Kind of, I guess,” Peter hums. “It’s more of the whole, like, I was the person who helped him with all his tech before Mister Stark came into the picture, you know? Feels weird having other people work on it.”

Scrunching up his nose, Harley just shakes his head. “Whatever. If he goes to pride and you don’t, I’m gonna find a way to talk to him and have him tell you how lame you are for missing it.”

Peter snickers, the ends of his lips betraying him and twitching up into a grin. “You do that, Keener.”

He does it.

And not only that, but he does it in a completely idiotic, stupid sort of way, somehow managing to find what must be the most dangerous looking fire escape in all of New York after ducking into a random alley by the parade, and he clambers his way up to the roof of a simple ten story apartment building, and he waves his arms and shouts when Spider-Man, wearing a pride flag tied around his neck as a cape, goes swinging by. He doesn’t think it’ll work, not really – he’s heard plenty about Spidey through Peter, but really has no clue who the guy is, and unless Peter’s told Spidey about Harley, there’s a good chance that the sentiment goes both ways – but then Spidey turns around, flips onto the roof, and simply cocks his head slightly to the side like an amused puppy before wrapping an arm around Harley’s waist and continuing the swing above the parade, a faint laugh barely heard over the sound of the wind and Harley’s undignified, surprised squeak of shock that turns into the occasional yelp while they swing.

“This was not—” Harley stops, the air being ripped from his lungs as they drop a good fifteen feet, before the momentum is used for the next swing, “—what I was _planning—”_ and now they’re sort of air born, flying in an arch thanks to that momentum, and damn, no roller coaster can compare to how this feels, but that doesn’t stop him from shouting, “Jesus fucking _CHRIST—”_ when Spidey suddenly has them twisting in a flip, fucking _lets go of Harley altogether_, and then catches him with ease mere seconds later.

People on the sidewalk cheer, and Harley would probably be having more fun with it if he weren’t so busy slapping at Spider-Man’s shoulder because that was fucking _terrifying,_ what the _fuck._

There aren’t any other flips or anything meant to show off after that, which Harley is kind of super grateful for because he thinks he almost went into cardiac arrest with that first one, but Spidey does a lot of waving, a lot of mid air posing, and keeps a tight grip wrapped around Harley’s waist the entire time, following the route of the parade until they’ve reached the end of it. Harley’s kind of just expecting to be put down somewhere and left, but then Spidey swings them a few blocks away, into an alley that’s much safer and secluded than the one Harley had climbed that fire escape in, and he simply attaches a web to Harley’s waist and lowers himself on a separate web until they’re face to face, both of them suspended about ten feet in the air. Spidey cocks his head to the side, silently questioning.

Right. Okay. Harley should probably explain why he waved Spidey down. Makes sense.

“Um.” Harley kicks his legs, swings a little, grips tightly on the webbing that looks too thin to hold him up but is clearly capable of doing just that. That distracts him for a moment, and he kicks again, spins around a bit, brows raising high as he murmurs, “Jesus, how does Pete make this shit so strong?” He kicks a third time, looks up to examine the way the webbing reacts under the combination of weight and movement, and he only really remembers where he is when Spidey clears his throat to grab his attention. Harley whips his head around to look at him, eyes a bit wide, and dumbly stammers out, “Shit, right, I- sorry, sorry, I just… I know Peter? Peter Parker? And, like, I know he makes all your shit, but I haven’t actually been this up close to the webbing, and I’ve seen how intricate and complicated the formula he uses is, but it’s just, like… it’s a whole other thing, seeing it up close, so I got distracted. Sorry.”

Spidey hums, still oddly quiet, and Harley almost asks why he isn’t speaking—he’s seen plenty of videos online to prove that the vigilante usually never shuts up—but he remembers Peter saying something about how the voice modifier in the Spidey suit keeps acting up, so it’s probably a safety thing.

Harley tightens his hold on the webbing, takes a deep breath, and says, “So, I don’t know, like, how close you and Peter are, but, um—he couldn’t make it to the parade, and I’m kinda- I’m kinda disappointed about that, ‘cause I had an idea for something and was hopin’ to be able to go through with the idea, but I told him that if you came, I’d find a way to talk to you and tell you to tell Peter how lame he is for not coming, but that was also kind of just, like, an excuse to try and talk to you, because he won’t admit how close you two clearly are, he just says you’re coworkers but I can tell he’s hidin’ something, y’know? And I— I think that I know what it is, and I don’t know what else to do about it, so, um—” He stops for a moment, pointedly looks away from where the eyes on Spidey’s suit keep adjusting in size to show his curiosity, and takes another deep, deep breath, before rushing out, “I think Peter’s in love with you.”

The eyes on Spidey’s mask go wide, and for a long moment, there’s no response, no reaction, until Spidey suddenly snorts so hard that he loses his grip on the web he was holding on to, and for a terrifying moment Harley is hopeless to do anything but watch as Spider-Man starts to fall, but it’s only a few seconds before he shoots another web and raises himself back up to where he was, only now he’s upside down, and a little bit closer, approximately a foot or so of space between Harley’s face and Spidey’s masked one. Then, quickly, Spidey shakes his head, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“No?” Harley questions, frowning. “Like, no, Peter isn’t in love with you?” Spidey nods, the action simple, amused, but still sure. Harley doesn’t buy it. “Then why is he so, like, protective of you, almost? Like, he’s a protective person, especially when it comes to the people he loves, but it’s, like, tenfold for you. Even Tony, who I’m pretty sure loves you like his own kid, doesn’t put nearly as much work into your suit and stuff as Peter does. Plus, with how dismissive he is when I try to say that you’re clearly best friends or something, it just—it doesn’t make sense. I’m confused.”

“Harley,” Spidey says, voice soft, and very,_ very _familiar—so familiar, in fact, that he instantly looks away from Spider-Man, expecting to find Peter standing in the alleyway below them, but Peter isn’t there, and Spidey is looking at him, and then he goes on to say, “I promise you, I am not in love with myself.”

It takes a minute for those words to settle, for the obvious—god, wow, _really_ obvious, now that Harley is thinking about it—meaning to solidify in his head. All he can get out is a small little, “Oh.”

Suddenly sounding unsure, Spidey—no, _Peter_—tilts his head slightly to the side, which is such a Peter thing to do that Harley really doesn’t understand why it hadn’t even come up as a possibility in his head, and he asks, “Is that—is this okay? Me being… who I am? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it took a few months before I felt like I could, but then every time I tried, I choked up, got all scared that you’d be disappointed to know that Spider-Man is just… y’know. Me. And not someone better.”

Harley huffs out some kind of incredulous laugh, clutching the webbing holding him up until he knuckles turn white, and gives Peter a disbelieving look. “What, are you serious? This makes so much sense, Pete. You’re literally, like, the only person that could be Spider-Man. No one else has a big enough heart.” Peter looks away for a moment, and Harley has to take a second to examine their situation, figure out how to do what he wants to do, before adding, “And, y’know, this means I can go through with my idea.”

“What’s your idea?” Peter asks slowly, sounding a bit wary and unsure—which is fair, because a lot of Harley’s ideas tend to take multiple tries before they become stable, and more often than not, those first few tries end up in some kind of fire or minor explosion—but his ideas usually work out, and he thinks this one will, too, so instead of answering, Harley takes advantage of their close proximity and puts all his trust in the webbing keeping him suspended as he lets go of it, reaching over to skim his fingertips along the column of Peter’s neck until he can feel the end of the mask. He can also feel the way Peter swallows nervously under his touch, but he doesn’t focus on that, rather puts all his attention on being gentle and soft as he slowly pulls the mask down, down, exposing the upper part of Peter’s neck first, then his jaw, then his lips. Harley stops there, not wanting the mask to fall off entirely, but he doesn’t move his hands away, just sort of slides them carefully around until they’re on either of Peter’s face, one going to the back of his head, and Peter murmurs a breathy little, “Harley?”

“Tell me if I should stop,” Harley murmurs back, cautiously leaning forward, trying not to tip his weight too much as he does so, and uses his hand at the back of Peter’s head to softly bring him closer, and he has to lilt his head up just a bit because of Peter being a few inches higher in the air than him, but he doesn’t mind the slight strain in his neck as he feels the shaky breath that Peter lets out fan across his face, his heart thundering in his chest as the space between them continues to close, until—

_Oh, god, until—_

Peter’s lips are warm and inviting against his own, already moving fervently as some kind of noise rumbles in the back of his throat, a sound of contentment, and Harley feels absolutely dizzy with it as they move in sync, Peter’s head tilting, too making it easier, and Harley’s hand at the back of Peter’s hand sort of curls into a fist and clenches the bunched of material of the Spidey mask, trying to press impossibly closer, but they’re both still hanging in mid-air, and Peter is still upside down, and after a few moments of this, they become a bit clumsy, overeager actions and movements fumbling in the attempts to keep up with each other.

“Stop,” Peter croaks suddenly, pulling back with a slightly heaving chest, sucking in a harsh breath and letting it out shakily. Harley instantly moves his hands away from Peter, goes back to clutching the web, and starts mentally cursing himself out for doing something like that. Peter curses, too, only he does it lightly under his breath, looking over his shoulder for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I— I didn’t bring regular clothes to change into, and you can’t be seen kissing Spider-Man, and— shit—”

“Sorry,” Harley murmurs. His hands might be shaking a little. Or a lot more than a little, actually.

Peter whips his head around, lowers the bottom half of his body while holding tightly onto his web, until he’s right side up and still face to face with Harley. With his now free hand, he reaches out, curls his fingers against the nape of Harley’s neck with a softness that sends a shiver down Harley’s spine, and pulls him in for another kiss, this one a bit more brisk, but holding just as much heat as the first. When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far, presses their foreheads together. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “God, please don’t be sorry. I’ve been trying to gain the courage to kiss you for months. I just— your safety, I need to make sure no one sees you kissing Spider-Man, or people might make connections and target you, but I have nothing to change into, but— god dammit, I really want to keep kissing you right now.”

Well, that’s definitely better than Peter being pissed at him, Harley thinks. He leans in, kisses Peter again because he’s pretty sure Peter won’t stop him, doesn’t want to stop him, and this time, when he lets go of the web, he doesn’t just cup Peter’s face in his hands, rather snakes his arms around Peter’s shoulders, feels as Peter lowers his hand from the nape of Harley’s neck in order to secure an arm around Harley’s back, and then Harley kind of says fuck it, because he’s been wanting to kiss Peter Parker for, like, almost a year, now, and he’s got no shame in making that as clear as humanly possible, so he turns his body a bit, until he can wrap his legs around Peter’s waist, ankles hooking behind Peter’s back, and he tilts his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss, all thoughts of the outside world fading into the background.

“Harley,” Peter tries to say, voice kind of strained, but he only manages to pull away for ten seconds before some kind of wounded noise sounds from the center of his chest and he’s leaning in again to keep on kissing him. Harley has exactly zero complaints about this.

Actually, he might have one complaint—they’re making out ten feet in the air above, like, three separate yet equally overflowing dumpsters. That’s kind of gross, and it doesn’t smell great, but he chooses to ignore that in favor of getting lost in the whole fairytale-esque feeling of the moment instead. Besides, the tighter he holds onto Peter, the more their noses bump together clumsily as they kiss, kiss, kiss… well, it’s distracting enough that he doesn’t really notice the less than ideal state of their surroundings.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, but it feels like years have passed by the time they separate again, Harley’s lungs aching a bit with the strain of trying to breathe while kissing someone, the visible lower half of Peter’s face showing his kiss bruised lips. Harley doesn’t remove his arms or his legs, just sort of keeps on koala hugging Peter, blinking at him owlishly, feeling lightheaded and in love.

Then Peter winces a bit, and Harley looks up, and he realizes that however long they’ve been kissing, Peter’s been holding both of their weight with one arm and a web for about the same time, and he curses lightly, looking down at the pavement ten feet below. “You should lower us,” he tells Peter, voice a little bit croaky and meek. Peter goes to protest, but Harley simply shakes his head and cuts him off with an almost teasing, “Yeah, I know, super strength, whatever, but that has to hurt. Put us down, superhero.”

Huffing, Peter moves his hand over, finds the other web that Harley had been hanging from and manages to detach it from Harley’s waist, and then carefully lowers them to the ground, lowering his arm once he’s no longer holding the two of them up. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sort of looks at Harley, and then huffs out a quiet laugh. “Are you going to stand like a normal person, or no?”

“No,” Harley says matter-of-factly, tightening his hold on both his arms and his legs to prove a point. “I just find out my crush is Spider-Man. I know you can keep carrying me. And I’m pretty comfy, so…”

“You’re, like, a toddler,” Peter snorts, though he moves his other arm over to help support Harley’s weight more securely, and his still pushed up mask exposes his wide, fond grin. “Do you expect me to carry you all the time now? ‘Cause I think that’d draw some unwanted attention if I did.”

Harley shrugs. “Not all the time. Just, like… sometimes. Most of the time. I dunno, haven’t decided yet.”

“Are you always this clingy?”

This time, Harley grins, almost a little cocky as he tilts his head slightly to the side, feigning a look of innocence. “I am when my crush is a superhero that just kissed me like the world was ending.”

Peter splutters for a moment, the visible part of his face going a little red, until the eyes on his mask sort of narrow and he huffs out, “I didn’t— not like the world was ending. And you kissed me first, by the way, I just really wanted to keep kissing you, and you distracted me when I was trying to find a way to look like normal me instead of Spider-Man so that no one would ask questions if they saw us, so you better hope that nobody saw us, or else the Daily Bugle is gonna have a fucking rampage about this.”

“Oh, I already figured out a cover story,” Harley says with a shrug, acting all nonchalant, like he isn’t still literally clinging onto Peter like he’ll die if he stops. Peter just cocks his head to the side in silent question, leading Harley to explain, “Well, I’m totally in love with Peter Parker, right? And I thought Peter Parker was in love with Spider-Man, so I tracked down Spider-Man at the pride parade to talk to him about it, but it turns out that I think I’m in love with Spider-Man, too, and Spider-Man is into me, and also into Peter Parker, who is also into me, and now we’re in a polyamorous relationship. Now Peter Parker and Harley Keener get cool points for dating a superhero while still being able to date each other, and Spider-Man’s identity is safe from the public. Pretty perfect, right?”

“You’ve been spending a scary amount of time with Pepper,” Peter states simply.

Harley looks pleased by that. “So, you’re saying it’s a full proof plan?”

“I’m saying it’s better than anything I could come up with,” Peter says, snickering under his breath. “Should probably actually run it by Pepper before sticking with it to make sure it’s good enough, though.”

Fair enough, Harley thinks, nodding once in satisfaction. “Does that mean I should stop kissing you until you’re not in your suit anymore, or…?”

Peter falters. “I mean… logically, yeah. That’d be the smartest choice.”

“Okay.” Harley is looking very pointedly at Peter’s mouth. “Do you feel like being dumb instead?”

The grin that grows on Peter’s face looks kind of strange with his eyes and nose still covered by the mask, but Harley can’t look away from his lips, and when Peter breathes out, “Yeah, I do,” Harley just leans back in, closes the distance between them yet again, and the rest of the world melts away once more.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr @ spidey-lad


End file.
